


when i have kissed you into a memory

by timber (calculus)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Fluff, Getting Back Together, M/M, Post-Break Up, Sharing Clothes, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:57:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculus/pseuds/timber
Summary: I’m awful about your name. I still jump when I hear it. I still feel it rattling somewhere in my stomach. I think I’m jealous of anyone that gets to say it because it’s not my right anymore. Years from now I’ll be standing in a supermarket and someone will casually brush past me, your name falling from their mouth like confetti. I’ll drop everything that I’m holding. My knees will wobble in the way they only did when I was with you. Years from now I’ll still remember how your name tasted in my mouth and I’ll have to start missing you all over again.FROM AZRA.T “AISLE 3”Growing up means having to grow apart sometimes. It's a process that Soonyoung is still getting used to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt: _the one where we bumped into each other in the street and you were grinning like a cocky asshole the whole time so i stalked off only to realise i’m wearing your shirt_

On a regular Monday, he's out and about, running normal errands. Today, he’s dropping off his latest set of lyrics for Jihoon at his cramped studio, picking up a new box of over-counter medication for the recent bout of flu his roommate's contracted, and popping in by the bank to drop off his latest check from work. They’re mundane tasks that require little brainwork, and so Soonyoung operates solely on muscle memory, devoting his thinking to quick daydreams of playing with the shelter puppies where Chan works or buying pizza for dinner.

He decides to stop by Jeonghan’s cafe for a quick coffee and some face-time, reminded of their last dinner get-together where Jeonghan had not stopped whining over not seeing his chubby cheeks in the past month until Jisoo had mercifully lured him away with some peach schnapps and a sympathetic smile. The cafe is nestled in Hapjeong-dong, on a few off-streets, fifteen minutes away from the subway station entrance by foot if Soonyoung feels like a brisk walk and twenty if he wants to take the scenic view. Today, he’s in no particular rush, so he meanders down the streets, eyes flicking from the straggling university students grouped like herding gazelles to the obvious tourists taking pictures with cameras and cellphones held up in the midday sun.

 _milk_ is Jeonghan and Mingyu’s shared brainchild, a small 10-seater establishment venture that they’d come up with back in university, a group project between a coasting senior business administration major and a sophomore dual culinary arts and hospitality management major that had taken wings after the semester ended and Jeonghan had decided he didn’t want to keep it as just an idea. It grew through late night meals at the pojangmacha dotting the campus grounds, the Hongdae cafe-crawls that Mingyu would drag their group of friends through on days off, and several memorable nights camping out in Mingyu’s tiny-as-fuck test kitchen for pastry experimentation while studying religiously for his art history midterms.

Now, as Soonyoung stops at the door, he marvels at how times have changed, the single-minded dreams of their early-20s somehow transmogrifying into steady-paying jobs and consistent grocery shopping to fill the backs of his refrigerator. He still has to pinch himself while staring into his ramyeon pot at three-in-the-fucking-morning to convince himself he’s not living the broke millennial nightmare, taking a minute to remember he’s actually gainfully employed and not the disappointment that he’s been terrified of being to his family.

A bump against his shoulder from a person exiting the cafe drags Soonyoung out of his thoughts, and he hurriedly apologizes and enters, mildly embarrassed by his momentary lapse. The blast of cold air welcomes him in, and he holds in the tiny shudder from the sudden temperature change as he queues up to order.

Seungkwan is working the register today, greeting the patrons with the bright voice and smile that made him so popular with all the noonas back in university, and he's extra vibrant today when he sees Soonyoung at the counter.

“Hyung! It's been so long! How have you been!” Seungkwan cries, grabbing onto Soonyoung’s hand like they'd just bumped into each other on the streets. Soonyoung can't help but laugh, a bright burst of air escaping his lungs, because this is exactly how Seungkwan is, regardless of time or place. He sneaks a look behind him to gauge the line, and the growing horde of people waiting patiently decides for him.

“I've been good, Seungkwan-ah, but we’ll catch up next time maybe,” Soonyoung says wryly, nodding to the line behind him. Seungkwan flicks his eyes over his shoulders and nods with a resigned expression. “For now, can you ring me up an iced latte and a hot white chocolate mocha for Seokminnie? Oh, and let Jeonghan-hyung know I stopped by so he doesn't keep nagging me for not visiting.”

Seungkwan dutifully punches in his order, scribbling down the drinks on two paper cups and zeroes out his transaction with a cheeky wink. “Hyung is actually in the storeroom right now with someone; I'll let him know you're here,” he says with a grin, and Soonyoung reaches over the counter to ruffle at his coiffed hair in affection. “Ah, come on! This took me twenty minutes, hyung, please!”

“Can't help it; you're too cute,” Soonyoung warbles and escapes to the drinks counter with a parting cackle.

There’s a girl working the machines that he’s not familiar with, a probable university student Jeonghan or Mingyu took pity on and employed, but she’s comfortable enough pulling her shots and steaming milk. Soonyoung smiles at her over the window guard separating him from the counter bar, idly playing with his phone, and she flashes a quick grin back in between emptying her puck and pouring in new grinds.

Allowing himself to get sucked into the round of Anipang he’d left off on, Soonyoung is startled when a hand claps onto his shoulder, scaring him out of his tunnel-vision duty to unlock the next level. He doesn’t quite shriek, managing to swallow most of the volume back down, but he does squeak a little, heart about to beat out of his ribcage. He lifts his head, ready to yell at Jeonghan-hyung because if there ever was Satan in a human being, it would be him—

“Got you good, didn't I?” says Jeon Wonwoo, eyes laughing and the familiar half-smile on his face.

* * *

Studying for finals is a nightmare for Soonyoung and his goldfish attention span. He manages about ten pages into his Impressionism and Its Influencers textbook, the first time he's touched it all semester since taking the art history course, before he faceplants himself into the book, cheeks smushed against the pristine white pages and tiny text. Beside him, Wonwoo turns the page of his spiral notebook in his diligent note-taking and continues reading through class-issued powerpoint slides.

Soonyoung groans after a minute, piteously and loud, and rolls his head to look at Wonwoo. His study partner remains unfazed, and Soonyoung pouts, whining this time for his attention. Wonwoo doesn't look at him, expression stolid and unchanged, but it's only a matter of time.

True enough, after a minute of silent staring, Wonwoo breaks, his face crumpling easily into a scrunched snicker, eye smile curved over his cheeks like a sudden burst of warmth in Soonyoung’s chest. He laughs freely, and Soonyoung follows after, the shared moment breaking up the silence of their living room space. Wonwoo pushes him gently, easily knocking Soonyoung’s limp body into the arm of the couch they're seated on, and Soonyoung just takes it with a beam.

“Shut up, you're the worst,” says Wonwoo, still snickering, and Soonyoung shrugs. It's debatable which of them is the worser of the two when they both encourage the shenanigans; Soonyoung’s money is on Wonwoo. “I was actually getting some work done before you distracted me. Now I have to get all back into the zone which you know takes forever for me.”

“But I'm bored,” Soonyoung whines, lifting a sock-covered foot to nudge at Wonwoo’s crossed legs. “And art history literally makes my brain dribble out my ears.”

Wonwoo just gives him an exasperated head shake. “Who told you to take the course? It's your own fault for not seeing this coming; I, on the other hand, knew the moment you even said the words ‘impressionism’ and ‘still-life studies’ it was gonna be a shit-show.”

“It's not my fault! Mingyu told me it was an easy A! Who knew he’d be some art history savant? I call shenanigans, man, _shenanigans_ ,” Soonyoung says defensively, pushing away his textbook and the laptop on Wonwoo’s lap to flop his head in the open space. Wonwoo lets him, adjusting his legs so that his thighs cushion Soonyoung’s head better, and places his laptop instead on the coffee table they'd filched from the old thrift store Wonwoo used to work at.

“Excuses, excuses, Kwon Soonyoung, but none of that is gonna help you pass the final,” says Wonwoo loftily, mushing a light hand into Soonyoung’s light brown hair. He cards through the locks of hair gently, distracted, and then pinches him between the ribs. Soonyoung squeals like a girl. “You need to wash your hair, though, Soon-ah. It feels like I'm petting an oil spill.”

“Rudeness! I demand recompense!” Soonyoung declares with a regal turn of his nose. Unimpressed, Wonwoo brings a pillow down on his face and presses it in. “Wait, okay, okay, uncle, I give!” He bats the pillow away and pouts up at Wonwoo, pucking his lips up exaggeratedly for emphasis.

“As victor, I demand your land as spoils. And also that you shower,” Wonwoo deadpans, and Soonyoung groans for effect than any true reluctance. “Also, it's your turn to buy toilet paper, so get on that before we devolve into true barbarism and have to use paper towels to wipe our assholes.”

Soonyoung makes a face and backhands his human pillow in the gut. “I seriously don't get how you manage to get laid like this. Has no one ever heard you speak?”

There's a flash of mischief on Wonwoo’s face before he bends over and busses him on the nose, the fleeting graze of warm, chapped lips on his skin like a brief tickle. “Says you, but I'm not the one who begged me to keep talking last—”

Soonyoung shoots up from his resting spot and runs for the bathroom door with a shout. “Shut up, it never happened, you're the _worst_!” Wonwoo's breathy laughter trails after him with no intention of stopping.

* * *

There are songs for this, the moment you meet your ex after a long time and it's like a shot in the dark, but you can't quite tell what's been hit. But, in the static burst in Soonyoung’s ears, nothing comes to mind.

(It's him, and the bleeding spreads like a colonization, taking territory in his chest and lungs, no peaceful surrender to the pounding in his rib cage and the sudden clench in his stomach. He thinks he may be sick, but with what, he doesn't want to know, doesn't want to give a name to because—)

“Hey,” Soonyoung croaks after a moment, and he doesn't know what his face looks like but the small smile on Wonwoo is gone, unreadable blankness in its stead. _That's Wonwoo’s poker face,_ he thinks detachedly, _he's nervous, but he shouldn't be—only I should._

He clears his throat and tries again, slides his mouth up for some semblance of a smile. “Hey, Wonwoo-goon, it's been a while. It's—it's good to see you again.”

Wonwoo just stares a little, flicks his eyes down his body like he's trying to figure what's happened in the last four years between them. He seems preoccupied with Soonyoung’s shirt, hand making an aborted movement, and he looks back at him with a lighter face, the tension somehow dissipated.

“Four years, three months, two days,” he murmurs, like if he said it low enough, the bossa nova music playing in the cafe will cover up the slip of weakness. Soonyoung hears it anyway, his cheeks going a little pink, and he ducks his head down. “How have you been, Kwon Soonyoung?”

For a split-second, Soonyoung imagines telling him it’s been awful since he left, that life had lost meaning when Wonwoo decided he wanted bigger and better things in a setting without Soonyoung, but it’s not true. Their break-up had sucked, yes, and maybe Soonyoung did spend the first two or so months wallowing in Jihoon and Junhui’s shared apartment instead of going home to sleep in the sheets that still had Wonwoo’s shitty cologne smell, but it’s been four years (three months, two days). It doesn’t necessarily hurt any less, but it doesn’t hurt as much any more either; he grew up from it, grew and took the lessons and its lumps in their parting with ill-grace perhaps, but he took them nonetheless. Now, Soonyoung is twenty-five and some months, he has a job with health insurance, job benefits and a 401K, he has semi-regular dinners with old university friends and coworkers, and he’s not the sad sack who’d been taking up space on Junhui’s favorite ratty couch.

“I’ve been well,” he says and it’s sincere, a little wry, but he believes it. Wonwoo’s smile grows slow on his face, but it seems happy, too.

“I’m glad for you,” Wonwoo says, quiet and genuine, and Soonyoung thinks, it could be okay like this. His chest feels tight, but seeing Wonwoo again feels like a bit of a balm, and he might not be able to breathe fully, but he can breathe again.

Jeonghan sneaks up behind Wonwoo like this, breaking their moment with the quick slice of affection and sadism that makes up 99.999% of his DNA. He grabs Wonwoo in a chokehold, but Wonwoo doesn’t react much other than an expelled breath and a head turn to look at his captor.

“Hello, my ducklings! How have we been, hm?” says Jeonghan with flourish, pinching Wonwoo’s cheek with relish. Soonyoung preemptively shields his own and gives him a weary smile; Wonwoo just takes the punishment with a sigh and a wry twitch of his lips.

“You literally just finished talking to me not three minutes ago, hyung, really,” Wonwoo says dryly, flicking his eyes at Soonyoung to invite him in on the joke. “Hard to say what’s changed since then.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and reaches over to grab Soonyoung by the nose, a merciless pinch between calloused fingers, and tweaks it with a sly grin. “Yeah, but I was more talking to this sucker here. Finally got the balls to come, huh, Soonyoungie? I’m kinda sad I won’t get to have my fun at this month’s dinner, but oh well.”

“Hyung, please!” Soonyoung doesn’t quite blanch, but Jeonghan catches it anyway, laughing aloud at the sight and flicks his exposed forehead before detaching from Wonwoo and giving his bum a satisfied pat. He rests coffee-stained hands on both their shoulders and draw them close enough, Wonwoo forced to lean down a little in deference to his height, and Jeonghan gives them sloppy kisses on the cheek, noisy smacks of his lips on one after the other.

“Look at my cute little dongsaeung-deul, reunited at last! Time was, you guys were inseparable, and Seungcheolie would have to chase you both out of our lounge area every time you guys got too loud with your video games.” Jeonghan’s eyes look unexpectedly shiny, and Soonyoung feels like he’s been poked with a sharp needle suddenly, the sting pinching his ribcage. Wonwoo looks equally ruffled, furrowed brows and pursed lips an easy giveaway, and Soonyoung idly wonders when the boy had grown so open with his expressions.

“Yeah, well,” Soonyoung says, his voice cracking on the first syllable, and he wants to duck his flaming red face into a pool somewhere and scream. “Times change and all that crock.” He doesn’t look at Wonwoo, sternly keeping his eyes on Jeonghan.

Jeonghan’s eyes flick over his face, knowing and sympathetic even as he continues to drag out this torture, and he hums in response before drawing back his hands and giving them a final pat. “I suppose, I suppose. But it does have a bit of a circular feel to it, doesn’t it, hm? After all, you’re both here together again.” He doesn’t give them the luxury of responding, just turns around and walks away with a parting smile and repartee. “Anyway, I’ll see you both next Sunday for dinner at Jisoo’s place, okay? Bring Seungcheol a nicer bottle of wine this time, Soonyoungie, and don’t be late.”

He’ll never know if Jeonghan just likes the dramatics of it all or whatever, but it always feels like a tornado has left the space overturned when he leaves a conversation. Soonyoung feels tired, and he remembers his drink belatedly, peering over Wonwoo’s shoulders to see if it’s been made and waiting. Wonwoo turns around to see what he’s looking for and catches sight of his two drinks, the iced latte dripping condensation onto the plastic counter. Without asking, he hands them over, one by one, checking the cups for Soonyoung’s name to be safe, and Soonyoung grabs a cardboard tray to slip the cups into and a plastic bag for an easier carry.

“Well, uh. This has been nice, but uh.” Soonyoung’s fumbling for words, eager to leave, and fidgets with the edges of his tray for lack of ideas. Wonwoo doesn’t point it out, just smiles at him, nose crinkling, and it’s another harsh sting at Soonyoung’s ribs, the expression familiar and nostalgic at once.

“Where are you headed to?” Wonwoo asks politely, fingers playing with the pulled-out sleeves of his cardigan. “It’s your off-day today, right?”

Soonyoung nods before he realizes, gesturing in the air. “Yeah, just running regular errands. How—uh, how did you know it’s my day off?” Probably it’s Seungkwan or Jeonghan who’s told him, if only because they’re the biggest gossips out of their small group of shared friends, but Wonwoo doesn’t respond with that, just mumbles under his breath. “Do you have anywhere to be?”

Wonwoo shakes his head at that, rueful, and Soonyoung has a second to think what a terrible idea this is before the offer escapes his mouth like a traitor. “Do you wanna come with me then? If you’re free? It’ll be boring for you, but it’s not like you have anything to do, so.”

“...Yeah, I’d like that.”

* * *

Friday nights, Jeonghan and Seungcheol like to throw parties on their lounge floor because they’re both senior RAs and Jeonghan has some weird magical power that lets him charm the residence life department to give them extra cash for ‘dorm unity’. Mostly, they just buy cases of beer and soju and order in extreme amounts of fried chicken. The number of people who attend vary weekly, depending on what exams are coming up, but their core group tends to come as often as possible—even though Chan and Hansol are still underaged and Jisoo gives them all disappointed eyes whenever they sneak a beer or two to them.

Tonight, Jonghyun and Minhyun have managed to smuggle in a soundbox and, with the generous donation of Jimin’s television set and Taehyung’s Wii console, turned the lounge into a makeshift noraebang room with bottomless happy hour drinks. It’s honestly quite the set-up, and they’ve already weathered two warnings from campus security about the noise, but the party continues strong in face of adversity and Jeonghan’s sweet-talking ways.

Soonyoung and Wonwoo have a standing bet on whether they attend the Friday shindigs based on a complicated game of two-person Kings that involves shots of tequila and house chores. Soonyoung has managed to scrape by a win this week, which means Wonwoo has to drag his shifty ass down to the lounge, already four shots in and one standing request to do the bedding laundry next Monday. He knows it’s not Wonwoo’s favorite kind of hangout, but he also knows Wonwoo does it because he knows Soonyoung loves going to them, and it makes him feel even warmer than the last shot of tequila he’d downed. They get to the dorm lounge on the nineteenth floor around ten, the party already in full-throttle, and Soonyoung lets Wonwoo escape to one of the lesser occupied corners of the room with the least amount of sound and flashing lights.

After about two hours of chatting with the floor residents and their friends, Soonyoung excuses himself from the conversation he’s listening in on with Mingyu, Junhui, and Hansol and looks around for the tell-tale mop of dark brown hair. He finds him curled up on the standard yellow lounge sofa, pushed into the right corner to make room for the folding tables of food. Wonwoo has a beer in hand, has been nursing it since they’d entered the lounge, but it’s obvious he hasn’t been drinking it since Junhui had helpfully popped open the top.

He makes his way over, pushing through the bodies huddled around the karaoke set-up, stops a few times to say a few greetings, and plops himself unceremoniously next to Wonwoo, who’s been watching him since he got stopped by Nayoung and Minkyung for details about next week’s Painting lecture schedule. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, but shifts so that Soonyoung can sit comfortably, thighs pressed together as close they can without sitting on top of each other.

“Having a good time?” Soonyoung asks, laying his head in the crook of Wonwoo’s shoulder, and Wonwoo hums, slouching down into the couch so that Soonyoung rests easier. “I saw you talking with some girls earlier?”

“Yeah, some underclassmen were asking about one of the TA discussions they’d missed,” Wonwoo says, shrugging, brushing Soonyoung’s face closer to his neck in an up-down motion. “And Junhui made Minghao and Chan sit with me for a little, so that was nice.” He turns his head to look down at Soonyoung, small smile playing at his lips. “How about you, social butterfly?”

Soonyoung nuzzles into his neck for a moment, leaves a discreet kiss against the curve of where Wonwoo’s jawline begins. “You know me, gotta be the life of the party or things won’t go smoothly,” he jokes. “You doing okay, buddy?”

Wonwoo lolls his head back, resting his head against the head of the sofa, and Soonyoung moves so that he’s facing Wonwoo head-on, cheek resting on the sofa cushion. Wonwoo looks tired, eye bags apparent even in the shitty lighting of the lounge room, and Soonyoung feels a little bad now, forcing him to go to this loud-ass party when he’s clearly tired. He scooches in, shifting until they’re separated only by a handful of centimeters, sensible enough distance for anyone taking a cursory glance, but it feels intimate in the space between them, quiet in the shared breaths and a private, affectionate smile on Wonwoo’s lips.

“Honestly, I’m a little mad that I didn’t win that last round of Kings, but it’s not like I’ve ever been that great at remembering rules anyway,” Wonwoo says bluntly, eyes and nose scrunching up in a soft, self-conscious laugh. “I’m ready to go home and hibernate for at least a month, but I know you’ve got at least another three hours in you before you’d wanna go. So, you know. I’m just hanging in there.”

The urge to kiss Wonwoo in front of everyone is especially strong, with his mouth upturned wryly, but Soonyoung does what he can, grabbing Wonwoo’s free hand and squeezing tight, and Wonwoo squeezes back, maneuvering them into linking fingers, hidden in the shadows of the lounge room and the party lights.

“Twenty more minutes, tops,” Soonyoung promises, absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the front of Wonwoo’s hand. Wonwoo gives him a look, brows raised in skepticism, and Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “I promise, I promise, twenty minutes and we can blow this popsicle stand.”

“Well, okay, in that case, you’re gonna pay for my ddeokbokki when you inevitably go over time,” Wonwoo says cheerfully, dodging the mock swat Soonyoung throws at him.

“You’re a giant dick, I’m gonna leave you here to rot,” Soonyoung says, but he stays next to Wonwoo for the rest of the time, uses his lap as a makeshift pillow and calls their friends over in small pairs so that Wonwoo can get some face-time with them without having to be forced into a larger group of interactions.

They leave exactly as promised, twenty minutes later, with Soonyoung smugly dragging Wonwoo out the door and shouting a flippant goodbye to Jeonghan and Jisoo since Seungcheol is busy trying to grab the beer bottles away from an unsubtle Chan, and they take the stairs because the elevators are occupied by drunk students. Wonwoo is pleased, obvious from how he keeps swinging their hands together, and Soonyoung can’t help but indulge him, warm in face of Wonwoo’s pleased smile and affectionate bumps. They go down four flights of stairs like this, locked hands and sharing smiles, before Wonwoo suddenly blocks him into the staircase corner, pushing until Soonyoung’s flat against the wall with Wonwoo around him.

“You’ve been watching those kabe-don Vines again, haven’t you,” Soonyoung says dryly, not even a little surprised, and Wonwoo ducks his head down in a laugh. Soonyoung grins, props his hands on Wonwoo’s waist and drags him in closer, and he goes in easily, dropping his hands onto Soonyoung’s shoulders for support. “I’ve got you and your cheesy ways figured out, Nonu-goon.”

“I just wanted to give you something nice for doing something nice for me,” Wonwoo says innocently, lips twitching and cheeks flushed pink, and Soonyoung honestly thinks he cannot be more in love than right now. “Just a small reward for being punctual with your promises, you know.”

“You know your standards for relationships have dropped dramatically since you started boning me,” Soonyoung teases, drawing him in for a peck on the lips, and Wonwoo breaks into laughter again, eyes squeezing shut and nose crinkling. He kisses him through it, but it’s infectious, the laughter, and Soonyoung finds himself giggling into Wonwoo’s mouth as well.

“Honestly, I was thinking more like Pavlov’s conditioning, training you into doing everything I want,” Wonwoo says after he manages to catch his breath, sly and eyes twinkling. Even in the grimy light of the staircase and the exhaustion that’s under his eyes and his three-day-old sweatshirt-pants combo, Wonwoo looks like the best thing in the world to Soonyoung, and he makes it clear to him, dragging him in for a proper kiss now, and it’s so easy to lose himself in it.

They don’t make it out until another ten minutes, but Soonyoung buys Wonwoo a big plate of ddeokbokki anyway, fresh hickey hidden under the wide collar of his shirt. Wonwoo is smug, knocking knees with him under the table and stealing bites of his soondae whenever Soonyoung isn’t looking. The night is fresh and muggy with the prologue of summer on its way, and it feels like it could go on forever just like this, the two of them under the cart umbrage, reveling in each other’s company.

* * *

The air is sticky on his skin after his exit from the cafe, sun bright and heavy in the hottest part of the day, and Soonyoung has regrets about going out during this time, even bigger regrets about letting Wonwoo trail after him instead of running back home and huddling in his blankets and letting Seokmin talk him down. He sneaks a look over at Wonwoo, the bastard who looks at ease under the beating rays, not a hair out of place, and feels extraordinarily petty, trying to not let his mouth scrunch into a pout.

There’s nothing to say. Now, of all times, with Wonwoo finally back from his soul-searching trip to fuck-where and Soonyoung has no idea what to say, can’t even form the words in his mouth without having them dry out. The first week after Wonwoo had left, Soonyoung had been sat down with a journal and a pencil by a grim Jihoon, and told to just write out his feelings because it would make him feel better. He took it, and after a few crying, not-quite-insults that Jihoon brushed off with an eye-roll, wrote in the book for a straight month, putting to words all the things he wanted to say to the absentee boy who had left him and taken his heart with him. It took up pages, and his hand had cramped several times in the hurry to write everything he wanted, and if the occasional tear had smudged or warped the pages, only his notebook knew the whole story.

He sees Wonwoo falter, a misstep, but he gamely walks on because it’s not his business, not his problem anymore, and Wonwoo catches up anyway a moment later. There’s a second of hesitation, like Wonwoo’s thinking about whether to say something or not, and Soonyoung thinks he’s gotten brave.

“What have you been doing since college?” Wonwoo looks uncomfortable, but the words are clear, confident, and Soonyoung obliges him with a shrug and a quirk of his lips.

“Just, you know, got a job, started paying bills and my student loans, realized it wasn’t humanly possible to keep staying up until four in the morning to play Overwatch and still be personable at work. Adult things, as they say.” Soonyoung is being deliberately vague, and he knows Wonwoo can tell, with the eyeroll that he doesn’t bother to hide and the exasperated sigh.

“What are you working as now? I know you were really excited about that one internship with that dance company in Gangnam,” Wonwoo presses, and Soonyoung relents, allows himself to be open for a minute because he knows Wonwoo is trying.

“I’m a choreographer for one of the dance studios in the area, yeah, but I actually work with Jihoon in music production these days,” he says, and Wonwoo lets out a small ‘wow’ under his breath, and Soonyoung can’t help but feel proud of himself still, because it really is something to be amazed about.

“That’s amazing, Soonyoung-ah, seriously,” says Wonwoo, pride in his voice even after all these years, and Soonyoung has to hold his breath for a minute, hold the sudden prickle behind his eyes and the warmth rushing through his fingers.

“So, what brings you back into our skirt of the woods?” he rushes out, almost tripping over his words to get them out, eager to take the attention off himself. Wonwoo hums for a moment, swings his arms the way he would in college when he was thinking, and Soonyoung is briefly annoyed that Wonwoo would change so much but not this aspect.

“I actually changed jobs recently. I was kind of waffling in my old job with the Chosun Ilbo, and High Cut offered me a position as part of their editorial staff, so I took it, and fast forward two months later, I’m back in bustling Seoul,” Wonwoo says in the end, thoughtful. Soonyoung stops in his steps, and Wonwoo follows, confused. “What—”

“Holy crap, that’s _ridiculous_ , Wonwoo! Congratulations, holy fuck!” Soonyoung grabs him by the arm and shakes it, genuinely delighted for him, smiling wide from the amazement and Wonwoo is taken aback at first before joining him, slow and shy in his smile but eyes creased, and they share the moment, free of the awkward history between them, just two friends basking in one’s success story.

It takes a while for Soonyoung to remember himself, and he takes his hand off Wonwoo immediately when he does, dropping him like a hot steamed sweet potato. He coughs into a fist and starts walking again, ignoring the smile still on Wonwoo’s face, doesn’t slow his steps for Wonwoo to catch up or anything. He does, anyway, long strides eating up the small distance between them easily, and Soonyoung has to hold back the dumb moue that wants to spread on his face.

“You know,” Wonwoo says shyly, and Soonyoung looks at him, curious despite himself, “I don’t actually know what this thing at Jisoo-hyung’s place is about?”

Soonyoung snorts and scratches the back of his head, just thinking about how it all started. “Yeah, it’s this monthly dinner thing we’ve started doing about two years ago after Jeonghan-hyung threw a fit because Channie had actually gotten engaged and no one knew until after the fact when he put up pictures on his KKT moments.”

“Wait, Channie—our baby Channie—got _engaged_? Actual fetus Lee Chan?”

He laughs at Wonwoo’s incredulous expression and holds up a hand in placation. “Yeah, but it was only for a few weeks before his fiancee’s parents had a huge fight and made them break up. It was actually some makjang-level shit.”

“The real question is: Did anyone get slapped with a head of kimchi?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure Jeonghan-hyung wanted to with the girl’s mother after he’d heard,” Soonyoung snickers, thinking of Jeonghan’s protective murderous intent when Chan had originally broken the news to them. “Anyway, after that, Seungcheol-hyung kind of basically gathered us all up and enforced this dinner thing so we wouldn’t miss the important moments in each other’s lives again. It was a little annoying at first since we were all over the place in terms of jobs and living situations, but we’ve got it down now. It rotates every month so no one has to clean up after our messes more than once a year or so.”

He has more to say, an anecdote about Mingyu’s hissyfit about having to cook for twenty or so stomachs the last time he’d decided to play host that Wonwoo would probably enjoy, but the words stop at the soft smile on Wonwoo’s face. Suddenly, Soonyoung is intensely aware of how he’s been acting, the desire to keep Wonwoo laughing at the forefront of his mind without even registering, and he flushes maroon in the bright sun, a cherry tomato fit for picking.

“I’m glad you guys kept in touch even after all this time,” Wonwoo says, sincere and sweet, and Soonyoung feels his ears blister. There’s a side of him that’s beyond flustered, but there’s an even bigger side, still bitter and upset, that says he should’ve been apart of this, that Wonwoo would’ve been included in this circle if he’d just stayed the first time around. He considers telling him that, mean and biting so that Wonwoo can understand how he’s felt, but he looks at Wonwoo’s face again, hesitant smile and fondness palatable, and Soonyoung folds like a stack of cards.

“Yeah, me too,” is all he says. Wonwoo crinkles his eyes and punches him light on the shoulder, an echo of how they used to be, and Soonyoung lets him, helpless to stinging affection he still feels.

“So, I don’t actually know where Jisoo-hyung lives,” Wonwoo says, biting his lip and darting his eyes at Soonyoung’s face. He has a choice here: to let Wonwoo sweat over it and ask him directly, or just take the plunge and make the offer himself, and Soonyoung thinks if Wonwoo has had all this time to become so brave and open, he should try too.

“I’ll take you there, no worries,” he says, flippant as anything, despite the hammering in his chest. Wonwoo’s surprised; it’s apparent from his raised eyebrows and aborted hand, but he takes it in stride, shrugs it off with a toothy grin. “Can’t have you getting lost in the big ol’ streets of Seoul after all those years spent in the backwater countryside, right?”

Wonwoo chooses to push him in response, a friendly shove, and Soonyoung snickers, taking cover in the light-hearted tease to hide the shakiness he feels. He ducks his head down, and takes a breath.

“Anyway, I’m going to have to leave you here,” Wonwoo says suddenly, and Soonyoung looks up, startled. He’s smiling, apologetic and aware, like he can tell what Soonyoung is feeling and is giving him an out. “I have an appointment with my new boss at three, and I need to head home to prepare some things. Here, give me your phone?”

Soonyoung wordlessly passes it over, doesn’t even ask, and watches as Wonwoo plugs in his number—of course he has a new number, it’s been four years, why wouldn’t he have changed it—and adds himself into the contacts list with a wry twitch of lips. The exchange is fast, only a few seconds in reality, but it just sinks into Soonyoung that it’s all different now. That time didn’t just stop between the two of them when they left each other, even though it had been so easy to jump back into their old habits—it moved forward regardless. Wonwoo hands the phone back, and Soonyoung has a joke on his lips, ready to break this unease, but he’s cut off with a sly smirk and a tweak of his shirt, Wonwoo’s fingers grazing against his chest like a sudden wildfire.

“I love this shirt, by the way. Really matches your eyes these days,” he says, with a wink, and pats him squarely on the chest before turning with a wave goodbye. “I’ll text you, Soonyoung-goon.” Then he walks off, without any more prompting, not even looking back to check Soonyoung’s incredulous eyes, just hums like the cheeky bastard Soonyoung’d forgotten he could be.

 

He hates to admit it, but he stews on Wonwoo’s crypticism the whole way home on the subway train, the coffee and frappe drinks melted and dripping pathetic in the bag on the floor next to him, forgotten. It’s only when he gets home and locks himself in his room, drinks handed off to Seokmin with a grimace, that he realizes what Wonwoo had meant. He glances in the mirror, takes in the striped shirt with the stylized ‘w’ subtly hidden in the upper left shirt pocket, and stares at it until the flash of a familiar smile and a the memory of matching stolen snapback slips into mind. He sinks into his bed with an agonized groan loud enough to have Seokmin knocking against the door in concern.

He’d been wearing Wonwoo’s old shirt the whole day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> interlude: in which the shirt-sharing is explained and there are horny boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been trying to think about how to structure this part and the next transition, but i've decided to just stick this in between. it's skippable, doesn't actually offer much to the story besides a little more backstory and pwp bc i couldn't get myself to actually write the second part without having some sort of motivation.
> 
> tl;dr it's smut, sry for the rating change HAHAHA

Their version of dating is to hold hands surreptitiously under the table and make the most out of their purportedly strong skinship. If they’re in company of trusted friends, Wonwoo feels more comfortable in showing affection, lacing fingers and using Soonyoung’s body as makeshift raggedy-doll pillow. Soonyoung is the same, likely to slip and caress Wonwoo with more-than-platonic-feelings when they’re hidden amidst their rowdy group, but they pretend otherwise when they’re out and about. Still, Soonyoung wants to shout from the rooftops some days that he’s the luckiest boy in the world to have Wonwoo’s heart, and it can be disheartening when he can only hug onto him as tight as possible in public to show how much he loves him.

But in the confines of their room, they’re free to be themselves fully, to hold each other without fear of consequence, and so they let go entirely. When Wonwoo has bad days and all he can do is crawl into bed and wait for the emotions to dissipate, it’s Soonyoung who takes him out of his head and keeps him afloat, holding him down with his body and bringing him out with soft, sucking kisses. He fucks the doubts out of him, slow and languorous, until Wonwoo can only gasp for air and think of Soonyoung’s fingers, thick and hard, pressing fingertip bruises into soft skin.

Today, it’s Soonyoung being fucked, aggressive and unrelenting, Wonwoo keeping a fast and hard pace to the staccato of his growling pleas for more. Soonyoung doesn’t need the comfort of human touch to draw him out of a black mood; rather, he likes the spontaneity and giving up control. He just wants to be taken care of, and Wonwoo is all too happy to give back, grabbing the reins readily. He thinks privately that Wonwoo enjoys this most: when he can make Soonyoung feel everything he does, show the depth of his appreciation with each hard-fought kiss and slam of his hips, the fullness of his dick and the affection in his creased eyes.

He claws at Wonwoo’s back, pulling him in impossibly closer, the thought of almost fusing their bodies ever more arousing as Wonwoo roughly strips his cock and rolls his hips into him. Wonwoo’s got a bit of an oral fixation, a habit of biting things whenever his mouth gets itchy, and it translates to Soonyoung’s neck and shoulders being used for teething almost, loud red hickeys and bitemarks dotting him like tattoos, a canvas of lust and arousal, the red-hot sting of his canines adding to the pleasure. He ekes out a muffled moan, breathy and cracked in the shell of Wonwoo’s ear, holding back a grin when it just makes Wonwoo rougher, sucking open-mouthed kisses into his salt-slick skin.

“I know what you’re doing,” he mutters in between kisses, wet and hoarse, twisting his fingers just so to make Soonyoung almost see stars, and Soonyoung shakes apart in soundless laughter, drawing Wonwoo’s head for a sloppy kiss.

“Mm, but you’re not stopping me, so,” Soonyoung murmurs against his lips, and Wonwoo grins into the kiss. “Come on, baby, make me come for you, you know I love it when you give it—”

Wonwoo takes the words into his mouth, replacing it with his tongue, fucking his mouth just as hard as he’s fucking his ass, and Soonyoung takes it, takes everything that Wonwoo gives him, eager for the pinching bites and the callouses against his dripping cock, driving him higher and higher.

He comes like this, starbursts behind his fluttering eyelids, and the air punctuated out of him with the force of Wonwoo’s thrusts; Soonyoung wishes this moment would never end.

“I love it when you come around me,” Wonwoo says, slowing down his thrusts to something more leisurely, but he pushes Soonyoung’s thighs up even further, draping his legs over his sticky shoulders. The angle change make Soonyoung cry out even more, stuttering his moans as Wonwoo hits just right, the pressure skating the line of pain-pleasure so precisely and delicious, and it makes him claw for something to hold onto. The sensitivity turns painful after a few more thrusts, but Soonyoung holds on, wanting to let Wonwoo chase after his orgasm.

Right about when he thinks he’s about to tap out, the silent tears dotting his cheeks like a brand, Wonwoo shudders and lets go with a cut-off sigh, the gush of hot come rushing into him like every wet dream he’s ever had. Soonyoung sobs a little, body aching and oversensitive, skin buzzing with over-tightness, and Wonwoo kisses his tears away sloppily, cupping his cheeks with warm palms and flicking the edge of his tongue over salty skin. The pull-out is a little too much, his ass feeling raw and abused, but he breathes it out into the shell of Wonwoo’s ear, and kisses behind it to distract himself. He unhooks his legs gingerly, and lay them down slow, Wonwoo rubbing his thighs and calves soothingly to make the needles and pins go away.

“You did so good, Soon-ah, so good,” Wonwoo murmurs, nosing him gently, peppering soft kisses over his face. Soonyoung soaks it up, the afterglow his favorite part, where Wonwoo is at his softest and gentlest with him, and he feels so safe with an open heart.

“I think you’re gonna have to do the wipe-down because my entire body is a limp noodle,” Soonyoung croaks, flapping a weak hand, and Wonwoo grabs it and kisses the open palm sweetly before getting up to grab them a wet towel.

It’s another few minutes before they’re both snuggled under the comforters, having moved over to Wonwoo’s bed because Soonyoung refuses to sleep in the giant wet spot that’s basically become his mattress. Soonyoung is near-ready to drift off, eyelids heavy and the earlier adrenaline now a calm sea of of buzzing endorphins, luring him to sleep. Wonwoo curls into him, tucking his head into his nape, gently whispering kisses into warm skin, and Soonyoung rumbles, content.

“You know,” he says, “we should really go out on a date one of these days.”

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo sounds curious, a good sign, and Soonyoung swallows a little.

“Like, go out into Hongdae or something without everyone else and actually do couple-y stuff.” There’s a pause, where he feels Wonwoo tense up, and suddenly he’s on edge, heart racketing up with nerves. “It doesn’t have to be obvious or anything, I just wanna be out with my boyfriend, y’know?”

Wonwoo is silent, body stiff against his, and Soonyoung feels his heart sink to his stomach, his buzz completely killed off.

“I mean—okay, no, it’s fine. Forget I said anything.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to pretend to go sleep, turns his body away so that Wonwoo can’t see his expression. He knows Wonwoo’s the warier one out of them: the one who takes his hands out of Soonyoung’s whenever he feels too self-conscious, who pushes Soonyoung away when it seems like there are too many eyes around; but, it still stings when it happens, even though he knows, he _knows_ , that they’re not in a safe place for emotions like theirs. It stings, and Soonyoung has never been hard to read.

Wonwoo rustles beside him, and Soonyoung focuses on the sounds despite himself. He feels a hesitant hand slide over his chest, opens his eyes to watch it find his own curled fist. There’s pressure against his back, the press of Wonwoo’s forehead and body on him, cradling him in ever so slowly, giving him the chance to break away, but he just slumps into it, the fight gone out of him. Wonwoo’s hand slips into his, gently locking fingers, and he brings it up to kiss at, Wonwoo’s bony knuckles still a comfort in his grasp.

“Okay, we can do that,” Wonwoo whispers, soft against his bare skin, and Soonyoung shudders from the tickle and capitulation. He kisses Wonwoo’s fingers again, blinks away the sensation of tears, and pulls Wonwoo’s arms over him even tighter, until there’s no separation between them, just the flutter of Wonwoo’s heart against his back.

“Okay,” he says too.

 

Soonyoung comes home after class two weeks later, backpack slung over his shoulder and heavy textbooks in his arms for a paper due in two days. The dorm room is quiet, but he knows Wonwoo is home, his only class of the day early in the morning and past. He slides the backpack on the ground with his shoes left by the door step, and shuffles in, ready to throw the books down for an afternoon cuddle, but stops in his tracks by the kitchen.

“You’re back early,” Wonwoo says, fidgeting with a box in hand, wearing a new striped shirt. Soonyoung raises an eyebrow but nods slowly, placing his books on the kitchen table.

“Yeah, Seohyun-gyoyukgyojo decided to take pity on the upperclassmen and let us out early on pain of not ratting her out to Yang-gyosunim, so I bounced as fast as I could,” he says, pulling out a chair to sit on. “What’s in the box? You look like you’re about to puke.”

Wonwoo makes a face and thrusts it forward, jerks his chin for Soonyoung to take it. “You have the best way with words. It’s for you.”

“Is it gonna blow in my face, are we doing those gag gifts again?” Soonyoung asks, half-joking and half-suspicious, remembering the time he actually fell for one of Wonwoo’s shitty pranks, an actual snake in a peanuts can. His pride still smarts at the memory. Wonwoo rolls his eyes and pulls his sleeves down to curl his fingers in.

“Just open it, dickface.”

Inside the box is a hat, a black snapback with a striped brim and a subtle black-thread embossed ‘S’ in the middle, and Soonyoung is a little confused. It’s not his birthday, and Wonwoo should be well aware of that, but he can’t think of any other occasion for getting a gift.

“What’s this for?” he asks in the end, pulling the hat out and tugging it on his messy black hair. “Did I miss some sort of anniversary again? Did _you_ miss an anniversary?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, shifts his stance to something more relaxed and exasperated, but his hands still shake under Soonyoung’s curious eyes, and he wants to pull him close to calm him down. “No, dumbass, it’s for our date today.” The words take a few seconds to register, but it does sink in with a dawning realization.

“...Did you get us couple clothes, Nonu-yah?” Soonyoung asks with a slow-stretching smile, and Wonwoo shuffles under his gaze, turning pink and hiding his face in his sweater paws.

“I change my mind, we’re staying in forever, this was a stupid idea,” says Wonwoo hurriedly, turning to go hide in his room. Soonyoung shoots out of his seat to grab onto him before he manages a successful escape.

“Don’t, Wonwoo-yah, this is so sweet—cheesy, for sure, but it’s—” He breaks off to kiss Wonwoo, chaste and sincere, waits for him to relax under his lips before pulling back to knock foreheads, narrowly avoiding beaning him with the wide brim of his hat. “I love it. I really love this, Wonwoo-ah. Thank you.”

It takes a minute, but Wonwoo hugs back, holding onto his shoulders with a tremulous smile, and Soonyoung beams back, bright and fond.

“Anyway, you said something about a date today, right? Let’s go out now, then, we’re wasting daylight,” Soonyoung says, kissing him sweetly one last time before pulling away. He keeps a grip on Wonwoo’s hand, though, squeezes tightly, and Wonwoo laughs a little before hitting him lightly on the brim of his hat.

“Yah, at least let me get dressed first, dummy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who knows when i'll actually finish this fic.......

**Author's Note:**

> lol i'm sorry i just wanted fcking shirt sharing ok i didn't mean for this Grow So Big????? anyway don't believe the tags guys it's All Fluff even if it's.......break-up....fic....... i mean..... HAVE FAITH LOLOLOL


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